


𝕮𝖆𝖗𝖙𝖔𝖒𝖆𝖓𝖈𝖞

by ShroudedSilhouette



Category: Batman: The Dark Knight Returns (2012-2013), Joker (2019)
Genre: F/M, Joker (DCU) Angst, Joker (DCU) Has Issues, Movie: The Dark Knight (2008)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-05-07
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:42:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23839291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShroudedSilhouette/pseuds/ShroudedSilhouette
Summary: 𝔚𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔭𝔢𝔫𝔰 𝔴𝔥𝔢𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔠𝔞𝔯𝔡𝔰 𝔰𝔢𝔢 𝔞 𝔍𝔬𝔨𝔢𝔯 𝔦𝔫 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔣𝔲𝔱𝔲𝔯𝔢?𝔄𝔣𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔩𝔬𝔰𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔬𝔫𝔩𝔶 𝔪𝔞𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔪𝔞𝔡𝔢 𝔰𝔢𝔫𝔰𝔢 𝔦𝔫 𝔞 𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔩𝔡 𝔬𝔣 𝔠𝔬𝔫𝔣𝔲𝔰𝔦𝔬𝔫, 𝔉𝔬𝔯𝔢𝔫𝔰𝔦𝔠 𝔓𝔰𝔶𝔠𝔥𝔬𝔩𝔬𝔤𝔦𝔰𝔱, 𝔈𝔪𝔟𝔢𝔯'𝔰 𝔠𝔞𝔯𝔡𝔰 𝔞𝔩𝔦𝔤𝔫 𝔱𝔬 𝔱𝔢𝔩𝔩 𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔬𝔫𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔬𝔫𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔬𝔫𝔩𝔶.𝔍𝔬𝔨𝔢𝔯 𝔦𝔰 𝔠𝔬𝔪𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔥𝔢'𝔩𝔩 𝔪𝔞𝔨𝔢 𝔰𝔲𝔯𝔢 𝔰𝔥𝔢 𝔦𝔰 𝔱𝔬𝔬.
Relationships: Arthur Fleck/Joker (Joker 2019), Heath Ledger/Original Female Character(s), Joker (DCU)/Original Female Character(s), Joker/Original Character(s)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 2





	1. ♤♡The Oxymoron Of Gotham◇♧

"It's so much darker when a light goes out than it would have been if it had never shone"  
\- John Steinback. 

In the crippled city of Gotham lay an oxymoron at every corner; Batman, the Dark Knight who lived in the shadows but brought criminals to light, Riddler, the man who claimed to be an enigma but who had already been worked out and last, but never least, was Penguin, the man who provided twentysomething Ember with perhaps the biggest paradox of her life- loss, the word that had stolen the one and only person she had left only to present her with a soul shattering emptiness to fill the holes her Uncle and his brass cane had left behind.

Found amongst the trash in a dirtied t-shirt for warmth, he'd lifted her from the seedy underbelly of her unwanted origins and given her a home. His shaky hand would brush through the tangles in her honey tresses to wipe away the remnants of grime that even years after her escape never seemed to fully leave, each morning would begin with a story of his adventures and the wars he'd always win, the night ended with a brush of his lips on the tip of her nose and the lullaby he'd sing out of tune to will her into sleep:  
"Burning Ember,  
Named after the flame,  
Burning Ember,  
That's my pretty girl's name".

It had already been a few months, yet still, she spent every night sat on baby pink bedding with his top hat to her chest and his rhyme in her head. Tears would fall and her heart would break a little more. 

It took her a while, but in the end, it was all okay, because she welcomed the pain, he deserved someone to mourn for him, he deserved the ache she felt, afterall how lucky was she to have something that made saying goodbye so hard? 

Well, she was very lucky indeed. 

A blaring car horn pulled her away from her thoughts, stopping in a hurry to follow the sound, her right ankle rolled to the side causing a jolt of pain to spiral its way up to her knee in a gentle throb. Keeling forward, Ember squeezed her slim fingers around her foot, bent it inwards and pushed it back into her knee-length boot. 

Turning her head, her nails traced the brown bags so prudent beneath her lashes in the reflection of the smashed glass window, inhaling sharply at the sight, her soft pink lips released a breath of fog that quickly succumbed to the sombre tone that had long ago wrapped itself around her hometown, she only wished she too could evaporate into the air like the carbon dioxide that filled her lungs. Continuing her walk, a breathy laugh warmed her chest when she limped in a manner that could only be called ironical- Uncle Penguin was still with her even if only in hobble rather than spirit.

Tapping the butt of her cigarette, white-haired Aurora looked over her green-tinted glasses at the bell on the door "That you, Flamey?" 

"It's me" she shouted back. Sliding past the many googly-eyed ornaments and baby doll figurines, she waved a hand around the curve of the wall. 

"Did you get me what I asked for?" Her fingers clenched and unclenched in impatience till the square box touched her palm.

"I really wish you'd buy condoms yourself" she whisper hissed, mahogany brown eyes lightening as she looked around uncomfortably and rocked on the balls of her feet. It was one thing to know that someone old enough to be her gran had frequent sex, it was another thing to be the person indirectly supporting her aim to bed each and every male in Gotham that took her fancy.

"And I really wish those punks in the pharmacy wouldn't call me a hot mama and spank my ass" taking a puff, she blew out loudly, "I hate having to break their wrists, makes my arthritis play up, but what ya gonna do?" Shuffling the card deck in her other hand, she intricately flicked them so they twirled between her disjointed fingers.

"Aw, no" her shoulders slumped, "Not again, I told you I don't believe in any of this" everytime was the same, she'd drop something off only to get pulled into unproven spirituality that was far off reality even for a place like Gotham.

"And I told you, I don't give a shit" standing, she pushed the opposing woman down by her shoulder."Now shut up and pay attention, you never know when it could come in handy".

Rolling her eyes, her bottom lip jutted out "Yeah" she scoffed, "When pigs fly".

"What was that?" Aurora tugged her glasses off, an icy glare yanking the usual temperature down a few notches.

"Uh" she blushed, pulling a face. It seemed feigning innocence was her only real option here, "I said, I can't wait" biting her tongue to hide her laugh, she looked to the side.

"Better have been what you said" she warned under her breath, finger waggling at her. "You ain't too old for me to put you over my knee, yanno?" Not that she ever would, of course, the girl was the apple of her eye, but she didn't half wind her up some days. 

Drumming her hands on the table, Ember looked on in awe at the speed the cards moved from one hand to another, the flick of the shuffle ending pierced her ears in warning that Aurora's favourite three-card set up would soon be upon them. 

"King'a diamonds, ya know what that means?"

"No" she smiled kindly, "But I know you're going to tell me".

Ignoring her jibe, she rolled her sleeves up so the tattooed snake on her right arm led beside it. "Means you're going to meet a man who does a dangerous job, maybe a nice officer?" She hoped. "But uh" she scratched behind her ear, "Could also mean you meet a man who'll run circles round ya, someone worth being scared of". Swiping her hand as if wiping away her words, she chuckled a hoarse laugh "But isn't that just about every man here?" 

She wasn't wrong there. Humming quietly, she gazed over at the cards, only then noticing the pale hue to her powdered skin. Frowning, she placed a hand over hers "Is, is everything alright?" 

"It's the nine'a spades" downing her tumbler of whiskey, she shook her head, "But that can't be correct, can it?" She looked up sorrowfully.

Even though Ember wasn't exactly one to indulge in the fantasy, she'd never seen Aurora look so shaken and that particular in a blue moon occurrence made her tremble too. "What does it mean?" Her eyes widened in curiosity.

"It means death, next to this card it could be taken to just mean really bad news, but it's the worst card you can get" her fingers itched for a smoke, her throat was dry and she knew if nicotine didn't reach her lips in the next few seconds she'd get all shaky again. Lighting one up, she leant back and sighed, "That's the stuff". 

"Well, what is the next card?"

"Ace'a clubs, uh means you shall have protection from a powerful man?" Her words were spoken slow, confused, almost careful. "That's uh great, I suppose, also means that the death card is the death of an enemy, so all is tickety boo". Poor girl had already been through so much, she didn't want to see her go through more.

"So what you're saying is" she paused, hands spread on the table, "That you're not going to spend the next few weeks losing sleep worrying about me?" It happened before, a bad card spread and all she ever got was a million and one phone calls and a grouchy woman to deal with every Saturday, she didn't think she'd survive going through it again.

"That's what I'm saying, sweet cheeks" kicking her legs up, she pulled a hand over her facial features. "Now, did I ever tell you about floppy Jim?" 

"Do I want to know?" 

"Course ya do, but I'm feeling nice soo I'll spare you the details, just remember, always have a cucumber spare in the fridge, when the age goes up, the dick don't" she cackled loudly, hand smacking her thigh.

Wretching, Ember hit her forehead "I think I'm going to vomit". 

♤♡◇♧

Snow White was the fairest of them all and what a prize it was to have skin the colour of snow and lips as red as a rose. White was purity and anything darker was nothing but corrupted skin. 

In laymen terms, Ember being brown had always been a sin when she didn't look it and it would forever be a crime if she did. 

Work was hard to come by for a Forensic Psychologist who fit into the crowd until she opened her mouth and out came a hint of back home. With each tell-tale sign of her culture came the stereotypes ground from the ashes of her ancestors; awful looks of sympathy for being a South Asian woman who must've been oppressed by masculinity simply because she was born in a place where the sun spent the majority of its time. Afterall, everyone loved a good tan unless it was permanent. Her personal favourite had to be that there was just something 'exotic' about her begging to be released, the typical 'polite in the streets, freak in the sheets' assumption that glued to her form holding her up to socially-expected standards depicting quiet women as individuals with a crazy side that had yet to be seen.

Race wasn't an issue if you were running in it, race was an issue when you got lost in the crowd of the media's definition of majority. 

For years she'd calmed herself with lies that placed her in a position of blame; she hadn't worked hard enough, she wasn't ready, she was too young, but what it all really came down to was that she wasn't white enough to be noticed, couldn't pass for ebony, couldn't pass for ivory either and that meant she would forever remain where she was, an immovable object with no chance of ever moving forward. 

But then like young Charlie and his golden ticket, she got her chance, a way forward if she picked the dark path, a way out if she went within the depths of no return. 

Into cell 666.

My first ever time writing on Joker, I hope you like it, please let me know your thoughts. Im using Heath Ledger Joker, but am happy for you to imagine him however. This is also on Wattpad under ThatWitchBitch


	2. ♤♡The Colours Of Arkham's Elite◇♧

"Use your blood to paint. Keep painting until you faint. Keep painting until you die"  
-Yoko Ono.

{A/N} Just in case you didn't know, vermilion on the forehead is a sign of marriage in India just as any other kind of red colour is when on the parting.

♤♡◇♧

Ember knew everything and nothing all at once about the unspoken living in cell 666. 

She knew his laugh echoed around the empty halls till it reached her, painting her skin in a vermilion red her home country wished her to line her parting with, prickling at her skin with a cold, whispy breath that turned her innards into ice and her skin black, bruised and a constellation in the night sky. 

She did not know why.

He'd drawn her in shades of beauty one could only see in the darkest of skies, but he had not illuminated her like the bright stars that would explode eventually, so she supposed she should be happy for that. 

Yet she wasn't. 

Instead, she found herself sad that her death would not be a firework of a million colours, she wanted to die with a bang, never with a momentary pang in her chest like the rest of humanity who wouldn't be remembered once their skin met soil.

But make no mistake, she did not want death. She didn't crave the cold embrace of dirt and air as her soul flew somewhere far, neither did she yearn for rotting bones reminiscent of those ancestors she'd tried so hard not to be, but if she was going to die by his hands- and it was at a minimum of a ninety-nine per cent chance she would- she wanted it to be memorable. 

She hadn't been born a sinner to die the death of a saint, hadn't fought a war to die as anything but the hero and she certainly hadn't picked this career to live beneath the glass ceiling that kept her imprisoned beside her patients.

With each tiptoe toward the bolted doors, Ember pictured colours; black, blue and a bloody red, she imagined that if she was the type to splatter paint upon a blank canvas to embody everything that was the criminal comic, she'd colour him in those. 

Dropping her gaze to the dreary dullness of cracked white beneath her heels, her eyes wandered around slowly to ensure no one was watching then slid the note into the small hole his dinner was usually placed in when the guards could be bothered to feed the man rather than the clown. With a sharp rack of her nails against the iron bolt, she stilled. She really wasn't meant to be here, call her a fool, call her naive, but she really believed that light was nothing without dark and in order to be at her best she needed to shine bright when surrounded by his version of the night. 

"I'm not here to change you" she began, voice a soft whisper she wasn't even sure he could hear, "I'm here to prove you can't change me". Once upon a time, she'd believed she'd met the worst of the worst, that no one could ever defeat the devilishness that spawned within her own blood until one fine evening she'd heard of a smile of scars belonging to an agent of chaos who wanted nothing more than to watch the whole world burn. His ideals, beliefs and entire system wasn't entirely different from her own and that kind of exhilaration wasn't one she'd find anywhere else, she needed this, needed him so she could find herself, she had to be the unmoving object in the face of the purple and green storm.

"In Italian pantomime, there's a character called Pierrot, his face is a pale white and his clothes a few sizes too big" licking her lips, she sighed loudly, shoulders drooping with the release of her breath. "In simple terms, he's a fool pleading for love from Columbine, a funny servant who while his wife is also Harlequin's mistress, Harlequin wins over Columbine with smarts, quick wit and nowadays is the hero of the show" tracing her hand over the rusting door, her lips pursed sidewards. "When I was reading your case this was the first thing I thought of, Batman as Columbine and you as Harlequin, I uh" she scratched her neck, "I haven't worked out who Pierrot is yet". There was no guarantee this would even work, but what clown didn't get their kicks from the pantomime? Either interest or irk him, she didn't care which as long as she got a response. "I was thinking if you wanted that you could reply with the paper and this" dropping a crayon down the chute, Ember held on for three mississippis then turned and walked away. 

♤♡◇♧

"Does he have tardive dyskinesia?" 

"What?" Snapped Jeremiah, head still in his hands. 

Rolling her eyes, she took the pen from between her teeth "You know, one of the very likely symptoms of Haloperidol, the medicine for psychosis, schizophrenia, bipolar, alcohol withdrawal" her eyes popped out, voice slow and each word longed out to ensure he understood what she assumed he already should've. 

"What?" He groaned again, palms rubbing his eyes till his vision doubled.

What was up with him today? "You know how his lips smack together all the time, well that's one of the symptoms of tardive dyskinesia, so has he got it or is he faking it?" Honestly, this was getting tiring, she really was trying not to make this a sexist thing if it wasn't, but she couldn't help but wonder if her gender was the reason why she had to put up so much of a fight for his attention. Shrugging it off, she perched atop the desk and raised her voice "SIR?"

"I know the symptoms of it" he lifted his head angrily, "I didn't need you to spell it out". Steepling his fingers beneath his chin, he relaxed back into the chair "Who are you even talking about? I don't recall anyone here smacking their lips". 

Hm, so he had been listening. "Joker". 

At that he rose, face formed into a snarl with venom laced saliva dribbling from his lips "We do not say that name here, he is patient 666 and nothing more" slamming his fist onto the desk, his eyes zoned in on her, ignoring the pins that flew upwards only to fall at her feet like she was the magnet they wanted to cling to for safety. "What he does or doesn't do is none of your business, he isn't getting a Doctor and you aren't getting him as a patient" rounding the corner, he loomed over her. "Are. We. Understood?"

Ember dropped her gaze for a mere second before placing a hand on his chest and offering him a cheshire grin "What?" 

"I said" his nostrils flared, "Are we understood?" 

An innocent expression washed over her features "What?" 

"Do you understand that you cannot be his fucking doctor?" He almost roared.

"I know what you said, I didn't need you to spell it out" waiting for the realisation to kick in that he'd been mimicked, she flung her hair over her shoulder. 

"You little-" raising his hand, his jaw dropped when she smacked his wrist backwards.

"Treat me like a child and a child is what you'll get, treat me as your equal and see how far you get". Then just like the wind, she was gone as quickly as she'd came.

♤♡◇♧

With naked hands led upon a suitless waist, a vortex of abyss drowning in irises circled the swinging bulb that would never light his way. Serpent like, his tongue slipped out to stroke scars across his lips.  
"Burning-ah Ember,  
Named after the uh flame,  
Burning-ah Ember,  
That's the dead-ah girlie's name".

A raucous cackle chilled the air around him, catching in his throat only to bubble between his protruding ribs lined in handprints from his favourite guard. Throwing his torso upward, his spine slithered up his back and his scars spread like smooth butter upon moldy bread.

Pushing the crayon onto the paper till it smashed, he blinked slowly at the array of red he'd smoothed over with his thumb then as if losing interest, he led back down. Using his fingers to part the messy waves of greasy hair that crowned his forehead, he missed how the red dropped onto the middle of his scalp like droplets of blood he still longed to wash his hands in.

{A/N} Just to clarify, I'm not saying Joker and Ember will get married. Just remember that once vermilion has been removed from the forehead it's seen as a sign of being a widow! Can't wait to hear your thoughts if anyone is reading this!


End file.
